


Angel Trap

by Rinkafic



Series: Misc Fanfic [45]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinkafic/pseuds/Rinkafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All that is gone is not lost, and everything isn’t always what it seems, especially when dealing with an innate trickster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel Trap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radoka](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=radoka).



“Dude, what is up with the radio?”

“You only just noticed? Every time I change it, it switches to another song about friggin’ Texas.” Dean slashed a hand angrily at the offensive equipment.

Sam shrugged. “So, put a tape in.”

“That is a tape.”

That made Sam sit up straight in his seat. “Since when do you listen to Alabama?”

“I am disturbed that you could identify that.”

“Dean.” He needed to get his brother back on track.

“Not my tape, man. That’s Steely Dan’s Greatest Hits. It won’t change.”

“Then something is going on here.”

Dean rolled his eyes, gave Sam a disgusted look and repeated, “You only just noticed?”

Eyeing the radio, Sam reached over and ejected the tape. The radio fizzled with static and then Glen Campbell’s voice crooned out, “Galveston, oh Galveston…” After a moment’s consideration, Sam said, “I think someone wants us to go to Texas.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I got the message about two hundred miles back while you were catching up on your beauty sleep. We’ll hit the Texas state line in about an hour.”

“Ye-hah,” Sam drawled, and tried to change the radio station again.

 

With no better clues to go on, and Bobby being no help when they called him, they went to Galveston. As they crossed the bridge and drove under the “Welcome to Galveston Island” sign, the radio did the static thing again and “Alice’s Restaurant” came on. Dean glared at the radio as Arlo Guthrie warbled his story. “You gotta be kidding me, you know how many…”

“Dean.” Sam batted his arm and pointed.

“Well, I’ll be… Alice’s Restaurant. Think someone is sending us for the pie?” Dean pulled into a parking spot in the front of the dilapidated little restaurant.

Getting out of the car and looking at the building skeptically, he replied, “I seriously doubt it.”

The waitress showed them to a booth and they slid onto the lumpy vinyl coated benches. Dean picked up a menu. As he opened it, a piece of paper fluttered out to land on the tabletop. It was a handwritten note that said simply, “Ask Val for the package.” He slid the note across the table to Sam.

When the dark haired waitress reappeared, order pad in hand, Dean checked her name tag, smiled up at her and said, “So, Val, would you know something about a package?”

Her eyes widened slightly and then she blurted, “Oh, thank God! It’s about time!” She spun on her heel and ran off to the kitchen. Sam and Dean barely had time to blink at each other over her odd behavior before she returned.

“Take it. Get it the hell out of here. And just shoo. Go on!” She slammed a package only slightly smaller than a shirt box onto the table and waved her hands at them. “We’ve had nothing but bad luck since that thing turned up. Hurricanes, tornados, tax audits, cook’s lumbago, Justin Bieber, just take it and go. I don’t want or care to hear any more about it.”

Sam scooped up the box and got up, leading the way to the door. “I guess we’re eating elsewhere.”

“Guess so.” Dean mumbled as Val followed them to the door, giving them the bum’s rush. She watched them as they got into the car, standing at the glass door as if afraid they would not take the package away properly.

Holding the box in his lap and examining it as Dean pulled away from the diner, Sam peered closely at the wrapping as something caught his eye; symbols seemed to move and glide along the brown paper covering the thin box. “Oh, crap.”

“What?”

With a heavy sigh, Sam tilted the box so that Dean could see. “Enochian sigils.”

“Angel crap.”

“Exactly.” He turned the box on end and found an address scrawled in black sharpie, with a small happy face beside it. He pulled out his cell phone and entered it into the GPS function. “Turn left.”

“Where we going?” Dean took the next available left.

Sam held the address up where Dean could see it. “Breadcrumbs.”

The address took them to a bookstore. Tucking the box under his arm, Sam went to the wooden door. It stuck a little. The old frame was crooked and the paint was peeling off in great strips. The bell jangled as they pushed their way into the dim interior. “Coming!” a wispy voice called from somewhere within.

A tiny old man hobbled between the bookshelves, his cane clomping as he came towards them. He raised tired eyes to look at them and then squinted at Dean. “Ohhhhh, it’s you, is it? Been waiting a long time for you.” He raised a crooked finger and jabbed it at Dean in illustration. “Oh yes, a long time indeed. Do you have the package?”

Patting the box under his arm, Sam said, “Yes, here.”

“Oh, not for you. Oh, no, no, no. This won’t do. For him. Give it to him.” The old man pointed to Dean and then turned away to go to the counter with a satisfied nod as Sam handed the package to Dean. “There’s something else for you.” He crouched down and pulled out a wooden box. He set it on the counter and opened it. There was an envelope within, folded and sealed with wax. He held it out to Sam in a shaking grip.

“What is all this?” Dean asked impatiently.

The old man regarded him with rheumy eyes, blue with cataracts. “The will of God, perhaps, or at least His messengers. I believe you will find instructions within.” He gestured to the envelope in Sam’s hand. With a wave of his hand towards the door, he turned and shuffled away. Clearly they were dismissed.

They went out to the car, and leaning against it, Sam broke open the wax seal and opened the envelope as Dean turned it over in his hands, examining the Enochian symbols. With a surprised noise, Sam spilled a sliver of silver about the size of a quarter into his hand. “We’ve got this bit of metal, a spell and instructions. We’re to take the package to this set of GPS coordinates and open it there, do the spell.”

“This seem a little stupid to you?” Dean asked, holding his hand out and taking the sliver from Sam’s fingers. He rubbed it between his fingers, sniffed at it and then shrugged, finding nothing odd about it. He passed it back to Sam.

“Seems pretty straightforward, the words I understand offhand are about reconstructing, rejoining. No blood, no demon magic. Seems like a white spell. It calls for human sweat, so salt, which definitely lets out demons.” Sam offered the paper to Dean, but he waved it off, trusting Sam’s interpretation of the archaic words more than his own.

Dean gently shook the box from side to side. Something rattled within. “So, do we do it?”

Frowning as he considered it, Sam reluctantly nodded. “I think so. With Castiel acting all weird, this might be a way to get some answers. I have a feeling this is a summoning spell. We’ll just take the extra precaution of ringing the site with holy oil. If we need to, we’ll flare it up. I want answers, Dean.”

“Me too. Let’s go.”

 

It was just before twilight when they finished preparing the site, a vacant lot on the outskirts of the Galveston suburbs. They drew glyphs in the dirt, lit candles, sprinkled holy oil around, and followed the instructions on the note.

Dean wiped his neck with a handkerchief and dropped it onto a glyph saying, “And, stinky sweat of one very moist human, friggin’ humid here, bro.”

“It’s an island. Open the box.”

Crouching down, Dean used his knife to slit the packing tape keeping the box sealed. He unfolded the paper and blinked at the logo and store name emblazoned across the thin cardboard gift box. He gave his brother a wry glance as he sneered, “Bloomingdales?”

“Don’t go by the label. People reuse boxes all the time.”

Dean pulled the cover off the box and brushed aside the tissue paper. Within, there was a jagged shard of mirror about the length of his forearm. He carefully picked it up and murmured, “Mirror, mirror not on the wall.”

“Set the object within the glyph.” Sam read from the instructions and pointed. He then crouched down and placed the sliver of metal from the envelope atop the mirror shard.

Dripping oil and chanting the words of the spell, Sam walked a slow circle around the glyphs etched in the dirt, the lit candles and the mirror at the center of the working. A wind rose up around them, extinguishing the candles and spinning dust motes around them in swirls. Sam coughed mildly but kept reading as Dean stood back near the ring of oil with his arms crossed, watched, and waited, a lighter cupped in his hand.

The wind suddenly ceased, taking with is all noise for an eerie moment, and then there was a blinding flash of light, forcing the Winchesters to cover their eyes.

When Dean lowered his arm, he found himself staring at a person’s back. Averting his eyes he said to Sam standing beside him, “We’ve got a naked guy.”

“It worked! I can’t believe it actually worked!” Naked Guy said. He spun around and advanced on Sam and Dean, arms spread wide, apparently intent on hugging them. “You wonderful idiots.”

“Gabriel?” They said in unison, recognizing the archangel cum trickster. They also deftly avoided the naked hugging in unison, stepping away quickly.

“The one and only!” Gabriel crowed, patting himself and smiling happily. “And all in one piece too. Awesome.” He wove a bit on his feet and then shook his head. “Well, almost all in one piece. A bit weak, to be expected, concessions to the plan.”

“You’re dead. Lucifer killed you.” Dean said insistently, backing further away from the dead angel.

With a scoffing snort, Gabriel pointed towards the ruins of the working in the dirt. “Hello, genius here, wielder of time and space, keeper of obscure knowledge, master of plots and trickery. I planned ahead.”

“You used us?” Sam asked as his jaw dropped.

“Of course I used you. Everyone uses you. You’re like heaven’s bicycles, everyone gets a ride eventually. Please tell me you didn’t call Castiel in on this, ‘cause that would really throw a monkey wrench into the works.”

“We didn’t call Cas. We’re sort of not on speaking terms with him at the moment.” Dean crossed his arms and glared at Gabriel’s face. He refused to look anywhere else.

“Oh, is it then, now?” Gabriel stroked his chin. “I wasn’t sure when I’d end up. The future being uncertain and all that, just to be sure, where are Michael and Lucifer?”

“Hell, in the cage that you clued us in on the video you sent us.” Still a little shocked by the dead archangel’s return, Sam replied hesitantly.

Gabriel clapped his hands. “I knew I was right to trust you boys. So clever, for mortals.”

“But how are you not dead? Lucifer ran you through with an archangel’s blade, with your own blade!” Sam was perplexed.

“A little hair of the dog, so to speak, I left you a little piece of the sword, imbued with a piece of my soul. That bit of mirror was keyed to me; to a portal I created and had waiting. You simply mixed the ingredients and opened the little portal for me to come back.”

Dean went to the car and dug around in a duffel bag on the back seat, coming up with a pair of sweatpants which he threw at Gabriel. “Here, stop being naked. I can’t have a normal conversation with you like that.”

“Prude.”

“Whatever. Hide the family jewels already. Where have you been all this time?”

With a scowl, Gabriel slipped the pants on. “Scattered about, in different bits of heaven. Without that focus you used to draw me here, it would have taken eons for me to reassemble myself, if I ever could. Damn Lucifer.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“Now what?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, now what?” Dean repeated, looking at Gabriel expectantly.

The angel smirked. “Now, my friends, we go our separate ways. Well met, merry be, tata, thanks for the assist.”

Holding his hands up, Dean looked at Gabriel incredulously, “Wait, that’s it? No grand plan? No trying coerce us into helping you retake heaven?”

“Hell no! I just got out of heaven. I wanted to be here. Now that you averted the apocalypse and it’s just Raphael and Cas squabbling for the eternal real estate, I’m perfectly content to dwell here where things are so very much more interesting. You go your way, I’ll go mine. Please don’t mention you saw me, and I won’t mention your part in bringing me back should the question ever arise, eh?”

“Fine.” Dean waved his hand in disgusted dismissal. “Don’t call us, we won’t call you.”

“Exactly. Thanks ever so much!” Gabriel blew a kiss at Sam and snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened. He snapped his fingers again and then looked down at himself, then around at the dusty Texas evening. “Huh. Well, now. This is unexpected.”

Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the car. “Something broken?”

“No peek-a-boo popping powers?” Dean asked with an amused twitch of his lips.

His brow wrinkled in concentration, Gabriel turned a slow circle. He closed his eyes and then suddenly his clothing changed, the sweatpants becoming jeans and a polo shirt, converse on his feet. He mumbled, “Not broken.”

Looking over at the Winchesters, the look of concentration crossed his face again, and suddenly the Impala, Sam, Dean and Gabriel were standing in the parking lot of the Ellen’s Vineyard Restaurant. The view before them was a rocky shoreline and crashing green waves, no longer Texas. “Nope, that’s not broken, either.” Gabriel muttered as he tilted his head and looked thoughtful

“Where are we?” Dean demanded.

“Maine. Great lobster and the best cheesecake to be had right here.” The angel jerked his thumb over his shoulder. He peered at Dean and said, “You’ll need a bib.” A plastic lobster bib with a cartoon lobster wielding fork and knife appeared around Dean’s neck. “Huh, that isn’t broken either.”

Sam’s stomach rumbled and Dean threw a dirty look at him. Sam lifted his shoulders helplessly, they hadn’t eaten in a while. He was hungry. And that was how they found themselves at a table in a restaurant in Maine eating lobster dipped in butter with a resurrected angel.

They had almost finished dinner when Gabriel looked up as if something had just occurred to him, snapped his fingers at Sam and demanded, “The spell, do you still have it?”

“Yeah." The crumpled paper was in Sam’s pocket. He handed it over. Gabriel smoothed it out on the tabletop beside his strawberry cheesecake and ran a finger down the words, muttering to himself.

“Oh. This couldn’t be?” He reached across the table and grabbed Sam’s wrist, and blinked, getting that look they had come to associate with Gabriel using his angelic powers. Nothing happened. Releasing his hold on Sam, he sighed and reached under the table and grabbed onto Dean’s knee.

Dean jumped and was about to protest about the roving hands, but he suddenly found himself falling. He landed on his back with Gabriel sprawled over him on the middle of a torn up road. “What the hell, dude?”

“The human sweat, in the spell, was it yours?” Gabriel demanded, catching Dean’s chin and forcing him to look at him.

“Yeah, get off me, man! There’s things coming! Can’t you hear it?”

“Crap, crap, crap!” Gabriel scrambled to his feet and reached a hand out to drag Dean up behind him. He concentrated, but nothing happened. “Crap! Run!” He dropped Dean’s hand and charged towards a vacant building nearby. They darted inside, Dean skidding to his knees near a window.

The ground shook and whatever the invisible things were, they bypassed the building. When it fell silent again, Dean hissed, “Where are we, what were those things? Where’s Sam? What did you do?”

“A pocket realm. I have no clue. Still in Maine eating his cheesecake. Damn, I should have eaten dessert first. And I was testing a theory, to see if we could jump without Sam.”

“Well, apparently we can. So, jump us back to Maine.” He reached over and grabbed Gabriel’s wrist.

“I can’t. That’s what the running was about.”

“Why?”

Whining, Gabriel shook off Dean’s grip. “I don’t know! Look, I’m having a rough day, I just recorporialized, I’ve spent the last year or so dead, for all intents and purposes, give me a break!”

“This isn’t some trick of yours?”

“Please, bitch. I am so much better than this.” Gabriel shot him a dirty look.

“Do any of your powers work here?”

“Not sure.”

“Is this hell?”

“You’ve been there, does this look like hell?”

“I was just asking. Those seemed like hellhounds.” Dean pouted and threw himself against the wall beneath the dirty window Gabriel was staring out.

Gabriel turned and slid down next to Dean. “We have no weapons.”

With a snort, Dean pulled his hunting knife from the sheath at his ankle, a revolver from the holster under his arm, and another sharp knife from a sheath at the small of his back, showing each to Gabriel before slipping them back into their respective holding places.

“So, not completely unarmed.” Gabriel held out his hand and concentrated. A kazoo appeared in the palm of his hand.

Dean looked down at the ridiculous instrument and then up into Gabriel’s eyes. “Kidding, right?”

“I was trying for something a bit more fearsome. I should have known I couldn’t summon it here. Balthazar probably grabbed it, that opportunistic little weasel.”

Shuffling around to look out the window, Dean asked, “Grabbed what?”

“My horn. They call it a trumpet, but it’s actually a ram’s horn.”

“That’s real?”

“Of course it’s real. You think Joshua knocked those stupid walls down with a bit of faith, prayer and a lucky tune? I loaned him my horn. Never liked Jericho, stuck up, no sense of humor, boring place to visit.”

Suspecting that Gabriel was correct about Balthazar having the horn, Dean kept quiet. No need to antagonize Gabriel and get him riled up at his brother angel. Gabriel already had a host of family issues. There was no sense stirring the pot.

“Let’s go, see if we can’t find a way out of here.” Dean stood and made his way to the door, stopping to listen for odd noises every few steps. He poked his head out the door and looked up and down the abandoned street. Seeing nothing, he stepped out onto the shabby sidewalk. Gabriel followed him. “Any idea what we should look for?”

“Swirly stuff? I don’t know. I might know an exit if I see it. Each of these pockets is different, decorated to the taste of whichever being found it and claimed it.”

“So someone deliberately decorated their playground to look like a war zone?”

Gabriel kicked at a piece of trash. “Might have been a war. Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Dean stopped and tilted his ear in the direction Gabriel indictated with a raised finger.

There was a noise like a pterodactyl on helium, soon joined by half a dozen out of key Jurassic Park wannabees. The air above them shifted and Dean dropped to his knees just as something swooped by overhead, catching Gabriel in invisible claws and flying off with him. From a crouching position, Dean pulled his gun and emptied the clip, or attempted to. His gun fired a poof of multicolored confetti, which fluttered harmlessly to the ground.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me?!?” He holstered the useless weapon and ran off after his companion. Gabriel was dangling in the air, kicking and screaming as he batted uselessly at the invisible thing holding him aloft.

Luckily, Gabriel’s feet were only a little way above Dean’s head, and by jumping, he was able to grab the Angel’s sneaker-clad feet and drag him away from his captor. Gabriel tumbled down into Dean’s arms, knocking them both to the ground with the angel sprawled out inelegantly across Winchester’s body. The things flew off, screeching wildly.

“Thanks.” Gabriel said sincerely.

“Off now,” Dean gritted through his teeth. When Gabriel rolled off him and sat up, Dean sat up as well. “My gun doesn’t work.”

“Not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You implied it, with the eyebrow thing.”

“I did not! Anyway, why can’t you fly?”

Gabriel looked over his shoulder and then back at Dean, “Do you see any wings?”

“Like that means anything.”

“I can assure you, they are currently not there, else I would have added them to the list of assets earlier. My contribution to the cause is a kazoo.” He pulled it out of his pocket and blew on it. The tune that came out was whiny and sickly. “Charge!” Gabriel exclaimed with a pump of his fist.

The sky began to darken quickly, dark purple clouds rolling in and blocking out what little ambient light there had been. There was a rumble of thunder, and the pair quickly got up and ran towards the nearest building. Just as Dean reached the door and began to push it open, there was an odd flash of color and the door in front of him had shrunken considerably, turned hot pink and had a sign on it that said, “Candy Shop.”

“What the…?” He pushed it open anyway as it had begun to rain, and the drops that hit the exposed skin on his neck, hand and cheek felt like acid. Gabriel shoved at him from behind in his haste to get inside.

The inside of the shop looked like a cross between Willy Wonka’s factory and FAO Schwarz. There was a thin, dark haired man in a yellow bowler hat sitting atop the counter, watching them. “Friend of yours?” Dean asked Gabriel.

“Uh-uh.” Gabriel shook his head.

“Welcome!” the man said in a friendly high-pitched voice.

“Uh, hi.” Warily, Dean took a few steps closer to the candy counter. “So, we’re a little lost, looking to leave. Would you happen to know the way out?”

The little man’s voice was high pitched as he replied cheerily, “Oh, that won’t do. No indeed. You’re coming to dinner.”

Gabriel shook his head. “No, I don’t think so; we just ate back in Maine. All full, couldn’t manage another bite.” He rubbed his tummy and faked a burp into his fisted hand. “Not another bite.”

“I do insist.”

“We have to refuse.” Dean grasped Gabriel’s elbow, turned, and started moving towards the door. Only to find the door behind them; and the counter and the man in front of them, each time he tried to turn around, the room shifted again.

“I do insist. It has been so long since we have had anyone new for dinner.” A sharp little tongue poked out of his mouth and he licked his lips. “So long. We’re so hungry.”

“Oh, crap on a cracker.” Dean mumbled as he realized the meaning behind the words.

The mouth of the little man stretched impossibly wide as he, it, smiled at them. “But do run, now. It has been a long time since we have had a hunt either.” The door flew open and Dean and Gabriel were propelled out of the shop by invisible hands.

“Run, Winchester, we need to go.” Gabriel said in a rush as Dean stopped moving when the force from within the shop ceased pushing at them.

“That’s what they want,” Dean protested, looking around in confusion.

The angel shoved at him hard to get him moving. “Think on the run.”

No longer entirely invisible, flashes of color and motion around them alerted them to the presence of their tormentors. Things began to catch and nip at their legs and ankles as they ran down the center of the street, leaping over holes that opened in their path. The aerial assault began, with the screaming things swooping in swirls of red and black, wingspans that hinted at creatures the size of Cessnas.

Something raked across and scored Dean’s shoulder, throwing him off balance and knocking him to one knee. Dozens of small things leapt at him, tearing at his shirt and the skin of his arm.

Realizing Dean was no longer keeping pace with him, Gabriel skidded to halt and then ran back to help him up, yanking his arm and kicking fiercely at the creatures that were partially visible.

The ground began to shake beneath them, and their eyes met briefly before looking back at the approaching herd of four legged, horned, fire-breathing creatures charging down the road. “We can’t out run that,” Dean whispered with resignation. They were surrounded on all sides.

A shiver ran through Gabriel’s body. Smiling, Gabriel suddenly reached out and threw his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him close as he shouted, “Hold on!” Dean felt a second layer of envelopment. His entire body was wrapped within feathery softness as he was pressed against Gabriel’s body.

“Liar,” Dean smirked into the angel’s neck. “You do so have your wings.”

Gabriel chuckled. “They just came back. Don’t look a gift angel in the mouth.”

The world turned inside out, their bodies briefly blazed with heat and then suddenly, they were elsewhere.

“Something you guys want to tell me?” a wry voice asked from behind Dean.

Embarrassed to be caught nuzzling his nose in the angel’s neck, Dean quickly disentangled himself and pushed back from Gabriel. He glanced down at his feet and saw that he and Gabriel were standing in a summoning circle. “Sammy, you’re a genius!”

Closing the leather book he had been reading the spell from, Sam replied dryly, “Remember that the next time you call me a dumbass.”

“Clever, Winchester.” Gabriel slapped Sam on the shoulder.

Sam nodded and pointed between them. "I realized we’d used Dean’s sweat on the spell, so I figured the pair of you must have somehow gotten bonded or linked. When you didn’t come back, I got worried. Thanks for leaving me with the dinner bill, Gabe.”

“I never intended to be away permanently.”

With a dismissive grunt, Sam replied, “Whatever. So now what? We’re stuck with you?”

Gabriel crossed his arms and eyed Dean. “Apparently so. Where you go, I go.” His eyes suddenly went wide and he blurted, “Uhm, hide me.” There was a flash of light and where Gabriel had been standing, there was suddenly a hunting knife on the ground, a copy of the one Dean always carried.

Stepping over to it, Dean bent and picked it up, and switched it for the knife hidden under the leg of his jeans, in a sheath at his ankle.

He had no sooner straightened up when a gravelly voice demanded, “What have you done now, Dean?”

“Cas! Long time no see. Where you been keeping yourself?” Dean asked with false cheer. He picked at the dirt under his fingernails with his original knife.

“Do not prevaricate with me, Dean. I asked you a question.” Castiel scowled at him.

“Well, I ended up in some little weirdsville, and Sammy here cast a spell to get me out,” Dean replied.

Castiel rolled his eyes and pointed a finger at Dean. “You somehow tripped through an angel trap. What did you do?”

Adopting a blank look, Dean just blinked at Castiel.

“Dean.” There was warning in the tone as Castiel took a step towards him.

“I dunno. I was sitting in the restaurant there, enjoying my king crab legs dipped in butter, and the next thing I know some demented Johnny Depp look-alike sicced his horde of minions on me, intent on making me the main course in their fairy feast. Sammy saved my life.”

Cas shook his head in mild confusion. “How did you get there?”

“Dude, you’ve got angels running amok all over the place. How should I know?”

Always the peacemaker, Sam stepped between Cas and Dean when it looked like Dean might start shoving. “That’s enough. We don’t know how Dean ended up where he did, Castiel. If we figure it out, we’ll call you, okay?”

The angel did not look convinced or appeased. He nodded tersely and looked around, sniffing at the air. He leaned in and sniffed at Dean. “You smell… funny.”

“Angel trap,” Dean replied with a scowl. “Angel smut all over me. Unless you’ve got something constructive to add to our hunt for The Mother of All, get lost.”

As suddenly as he had appeared, Castiel was gone.

“The walls have ears.” Sam chanted in a singsong voice as he and Dean made their way to the car.

The knife on his ankle seemed to weigh a ton. “Don’t I know it.”

As Dean started the car and pulled out of the deserted parking lot, Sam asked quietly. “What now?”

Dean’s reply was terse and to the point. “Bobby’s. Warded.”

In the next moment, the Impala was pulling into Bobby’s yard. “This could be handy,” Dean remarked quietly.

“You can’t remain under house arrest at Bobby’s. A more permanent solution has to be found,” Sam said as he got out of the car. Dean nodded in agreement.

After waving to their friend, explaining they had a predicament, and warding the room against prying angel eyes, Dean dropped the knife on Bobby’s desk. “Okay, you’re in the clear.”

“Thank you.” Gabriel said as he rematerialized in his usual form. “You didn’t have to help me, not after everything I did to you guys.”

“I’m slightly more pissed off at Cas than I am at you right now. Besides, if our trip to the Twilight Zone is any indication of what’ll happen to you, and I’m glued to you for the time being, it’s in my best interests to keep your ass intact.”

Sitting back in his chair and staring at the angel sitting on his desk, Bobby grunted. “He can’t stay here.”

“Cas didn’t pick up on him when he was pretending to be a knife.” Sam pointed out.

“With a little more preparation, I can mask myself better. It might be a good short term solution. I can help you guys; we’ll be the three amigos, hunting down evil!”

Crossing his arms and glaring, Dean said, “I thought you were the original runaway? Didn’t want to get involved?”

“Yeah, well, evil is still evil and needs to be smited. I can handle that. It was the whole sibling rivalry thing that got old. Besides, you guys are interesting, and it’ll be a lark putting one over on Cas and Rafael.”

“So, you’ll just pretend to be a knife?” Bobby looked askance at the overeager Gabriel.

“Just part of the time, when Cas might be looking. I’m used to being incorporeal. It’s no biggie.” Gabriel shrugged and clapped his hands. “So, we on?”

“I suppose, until we figure out how to break this bond between you and Dean.” Sam looked at his brother, who nodded reluctantly.

And that is how Dean Winchester walked into battle with an archangel on his belt… but that is another story.

The End


End file.
